


up all night

by annalyia



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Children of Characters, Coping, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalyia/pseuds/annalyia
Summary: fenris copes with hawke's absence.  takes place during hawke's trip to skyhold
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	up all night

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy :)

The moonlight reflects off the counters, highlighting Fenris’ skin—the markings tingle, just a touch—as he wipes them down for the hundredth time today. The stone is smooth and cool beneath his hands as he traces endless circles.

It’s less that he’s worried about the state of their cleanliness and more that he needs to do something with his hands before he loses his mind.

Idly, he rubs at an eye with the heel of his palm. His eyelids droop a little, but he forces them open. He can’t—not now—

Hanging the rag up, he makes his way from the kitchen to the couch; it’s not a far walk, just through the small dining room with wilted flowers on the table. Fenris makes a mental note to refresh those in the morning. He smiles as he reaches the couch and sees it is not as he left it, wondering which of the children folded the blanket and carefully placed the pillow against the arm while he wasn’t looking. The twins have such big, caring hearts, something that he attributes to their mother rather than himself. He settles himself down on the couch, curling his legs against himself and draping the blanket over them before lighting a candle and grabbing the book from the side table. 

Fenris takes a deep breath before beginning to read. He’s still a little slow with some of the words, but he knows that he has to keep improving so that he can help the twins when they’re older.

“Papa?”

He glances up from his book to see June, her wide green eyes watching him from the doorway. 

Closing the book, he says, “June?” He adjusts his posture, making room for her to sit, which she does, snuggling into his side. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Carver won’t stop snoring,” she grumbles. “He’s very loud and doesn’t listen when I tell him.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Fenris replies, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Can you read to me?” June asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Her voice is soft and tired, and Fenris can tell that this is the last little nudge she needs to fall asleep.

“Anything in particular you wish to hear?”

“Your voice,” June mumbles, causing Fenris to smile.

“So be it,” he says. His reading is just as slow as before, but he can tell that June doesn’t mind from the small smile on her face that slowly fades as she falls asleep, replaced by her mouth slightly open and soft snores. He smooths her hair back before learning down and placing a kiss to the top of her head, being careful not to stir her. Even though June no longer requires it, Fenris keeps reading aloud to keep himself awake. It will be a few hours, still, before the sun creeps above the horizon, and he doesn’t feel like sleeping.

Eventually, though, the light from his candle is overshadowed by that of the sun. June stirs with the birds, stretching her arms above her head as she yawns, smacking her lips afterwards. “G’mornin, Papa,” she mumbles. 

“Morning, June,” he says, putting his book down.

“Did you sleep well?”

A pang of guilt twists in his chest, but Fenris nods anyway. “It was easy, what with you at my side.”

June beams, her love for her father evident. She slides off the couch before turning to Fenris. “I’m gonna wake Carver up,” she tells him before skipping in that direction of the cottage. 

“Don’t forget, Aunt Isabela and Aunt Merrill are coming over today,” he calls as she leaves.

“I won’t,” she says back.

Fenris smiles. 

It takes a few minutes, but by the time Fenris has straightened up around the house and made his way out to the garden, the twins are out of bed and digging through the weeds with him. 

“There are too many weeds in this garden,” Carver says, rather matter-of-factly. He dusts the dirt off his hands before scratching at his nose. He and June have the same wide green eyes of their father, but Fenris is glad that they were blessed with the same freckles and dirty blonde hair as their mother. It makes his heart ache to see the similarities between them.

“Oh, I’m quite aware,” Fenris replies. He reaches out to ruffle his son’s hair, causing Carver to yelp and fall backwards. “Is everything all right?” Fenris asks, barely containing his laughter.

Scowling, Carver eyes his father. “Don’t,” he fusses. “I just had a bath.”

“That’s interesting,” June says before dumping a handful of dirt on her brother’s head, grinning in absolute delight at his shrieks. 

“June!” he hollers, shaking his head vigorously.

Fenris laughs, really laughs, for the first time in what feels like a while. He is filled with pride as he watches the twins, enjoying just how much they remind him of their mother.

“Now, now, a little bit of dirt never hurt anybody.” 

Fenris looks up, hand shielding his eyes from the mid-morning sun, to see Merrill and Isabela. The elf is squatting down on Carver’s level, using her magic to try and lift the dirt from Carver’s hair. 

It’s still his gut-reaction to sneer when he watches Merrill—or anyone, really—use magic, but he is…trying.

“There, is that better?” Merrill asks, smiling at Carver.

Carver shakes his head again, hands out to the side to see if any dirt lands in them. Upon further inspection, he grudgingly replies, “yes.”

“Good!” Merrill says cheerily, standing. 

In the meantime, Isabela has been helping June dig up weeds. The rogue has one of her daggers out and is carefully showing June how to use it as a shovel.

That causes Fenris to grimace as well, but he knows he can trust Isabela.

Once the garden is sufficiently free of weeds, the twins begin to complain of hunger.

“Papa, I have _never_ been this hungry before,” June says, intensely eyeing her father. 

“Ever?” he muses, rubbing his chin. “That is a serious declaration.” Standing, he stretches out his stiff muscles. “I suppose we should have some lunch then, should we not?”

“Finally!” June and Carver say in unison before scrambling to stand and running into the house.

“Good thing they don’t wear shoes,” Merrill says. “Otherwise they’d be tracking so much dirt into the house.”

“I’m sure Fenris needs to sweep, anyway,” Isabela says, shooting a look at Fenris.

He shrugs. “Perhaps.”

Once in the house, Fenris helps the twins slice apples, cheese, and bread for their guests. They eat in relative comfort, small talk happening easily between the old friends. It doesn’t take long for the twins to finish their food and insist that their Aunt Merrill take them back outside and show them magic tricks. Smiling, Merrill is dragged out the door by Carver and June, waving to Fenris and Isabela, insisting that they take their time cleaning up. “I’ll be fine,” she tells them.

“I’m sure you will, kitten,” Isabela notes, a wry smile on her lips. 

After the three of them are out the door, Isabela gathers the plates from the table and brings them over to the sink. “There’s soap and water here, I presume? Or has Hawke’s absence kept you from even the most basic of necessities?”

Her words cut deep, but Fenris knows there is truth in them. “In the cabinet, under the sink,” he says. “One bucket with water, the other to catch. One of the twins fetches it every morning,” he adds.

She nods, opening the cabinet door and pulling out the appropriate bucket. Once she’s started scrubbing away at the plates she says, “I know that was a little…harsh of me earlier. I _am_ sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Fenris says automatically. Because, well, it is. He misses Hawke more than he ever thought he could miss someone in his life, heart aching at the mere thought of her. But, at the same time, he has let that ache…interfere with certain aspects of his life.

“Is it?”

Fenris’ answer hangs in the silence between them.

“She’ll be back, Fenris,” Isabela says softly, much softer than he’s heard her be in some time. “But she needs to have a family—a _husband_ —to come back to.”

“I know,” Fenris whispers.

Isabela lets the plate she’s holding slide beneath the water, disappearing beneath the surface, before turning to face Fenris, leaning against the counter. “When was the last time you slept?” she asks.

“I—”

“And don’t even _think_ about lying to me,” she says matter-of-factly. “The bags beneath your eyes are worse than they were when we met.”

Excuses start to bubble up in Fenris, but the words that leave his lips are, “a while.”

“And I’m sure the twins don’t know?”

Fenris shakes his head. “No, of course not. I would not let them suffer that knowledge.”

Isabela nods curtly. “Have you even tried?” She turns back around, moving from the sink to the counter, and begins to prepare different ingredients for a stew; Fenris sees potatoes, some meat, and a few root vegetables.

He watches her chop away at the food, tossing the pieces into a pot when finished. She adds some spices and stock, not really measuring either. Fenris waits till she finishes and is once again facing him to reply. “Yes, in the beginning. But it…” he trails off.

“Reminded you of lonelier times?”

Fenris grimaces in response. He remembers the times when he desperately wished his bed was empty. Now, there is nothing he would not give to be able to curl against her sleeping form, run his fingers through her hair, hear her laugh, see her smile, anything. 

How deeply, how _fully_ he misses her.

“Carver and June help,” he finally says, voice subdued and sad. “They have the full and caring heart of their mother, and June is quickly inheriting her wit.” A smile ghosts his lips as the thought of Hawke hearing her daughter talk back for the first time comes to mind. 

“And, while that is nice and all, they need their father to be present so that they can inherit things from him as well,” Isabela says. As Fenris once again does not reply, Isabela sighs. She extends a hand to him, which he takes, and helps him up from his chair. “Shall we go make sure Merrill hasn’t caused any permanent harm?”

Fenris nods, and the two make their way to the porch swing, enjoying the shade of the trees as they watch Merrill and the twins frantically chase each other around the yard. After a bit, Merrill notices them. “Oh good,” she says, chest rising and falling with her deep breaths, “you’re here.” She rests her hands on her knees, desperately trying to catch her breath. “Are the two of you quite ready to play with Aunt Bela yet?”

“Yes!” June shouts. Her hair is coming loose from her pigtails, and there’s a streak of dirt across her nose. Carver is not in much better shape. Fenris smiles, knowing Carver will not be pleased later when he needs another bath.

“Well, I suppose that’s my cue,” Isabela says before rising and sauntering over to the twins, allowing Merrill to take a much-needed break. 

Merrill plops herself next to Fenris, her momentum gently swinging them back and forth a few times before keeping up the motion herself. “They’re very energetic,” she says.

“Indeed,” Fenris replies. 

“It’s a wonder you can keep up with them and sleep as little as you have been.” Fenris opens his mouth to protest, but Merrill cuts him off. “Isabela isn’t the only observant one, you know.” She turns her head to him, green eyes piercing through his defenses. “She’d want you to.”

“What?”

“Take care of yourself, that is. You know how she is. She’d hate to have to come home and make a fuss over you not taking care of yourself.”

Fenris sighs. It’s a full-body motion, something that starts in his chest and breathes through his whole body. He feels some of the tension leave with it.

“You know I’m right.”

“Yes.”

“Try and get some sleep tonight.”

“Maybe.”

Merrill smiles. “Must you always be so difficult?”

“Perhaps.”

The rest of the day passes, Isabela and Merrill doing more tricks for the twins, Fenris watching from the porch swing and assisting when necessary. As the sun begins to dip below the trees, the twins loudly protest as their aunts insist it is time to leave.

“I suppose this is an appropriate time to rein in my children,” Fenris says to himself. Standing, he calls, “June, Carver! Aunt Bela and Aunt Merrill have other business to attend to. Say your goodbyes and let them be on their way.”

There is still much pouting and protesting from the twins, but they tightly hug Merrill and Isabela before joining Fenris on the porch, waving their goodbyes and watching their friends disappear down the road. 

“Shall we eat?” Fenris asks, looking down at Carver and June, who are clinging to his legs. They nod, subdued now that the excitement of the day has slowed. “Aunt Bela was kind enough to make some stew before leaving.”

Supper is, unsurprisingly, tasty. Isabela picked up a knack for cooking after spending so much time around Merrill. It’s not as good as what Hawke would normally have prepared, but Fenris knows that beggars cannot be choosers as time such as this. Fenris watches the twins carefully, listening to them tell him about their day and the mischief they managed.

Carver almost falls asleep eating his stew. June shakes him back to wakefulness, causing him to grumble. “C’mon, Carver,” she says. “Papa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can we sleep in your bed tonight?”

Fenris’ eyes widen, June’s question catching him completely off guard. “What?”

“I liked snuggling you last night, and I want to again tonight.”

His heart melts at her simple request, and Fenris cannot find it in himself to deny her. Instead, he scoops the twins up, one on each hip, and obliges. “We’ll take care of the dishes later,” he tells June as she leans her head against his shoulder. Carver seems to fall asleep as soon as he is in his father’s arms. 

“You’re gonna tuck us in, right?” June asks, voice thick with sleep, as they enter the doorway to Fenris and Hawke’s room. 

“Of course,” Fenris replies absentmindedly. It’s not that he is ignorant to his daughter’s wishes, it’s just that this is the first time he’s been in this room with the intent to stay in some time. He uses this room daily, of course, to change and ready himself for the day, but that is its only use. It is nothing more than a room without Hawke. 

“Papa,” Carver mumbles blearily against Fenris’ neck.

“Yes?”

“I love you, Papa.”

Those three simple words break Fenris’ spell. The haze is gone, and he turns his attention to June and Carver. “I love you, too,” he says, carefully pushing back the sheets with his elbow, doing his best not to jostle the twins too much. 

“Me too, Papa,” June fusses softly. “I love you, too.”

“And I you, June,” Fenris tells her, laying her and her brother side by side before pulling the covers up to their chins.

“Papa, no,” June mumbles. 

“No?”

“Both snuggle,” Carver says. “Both.”

Fenris smiles as sleep slurs his son’s words. “Both snuggle?”

“Mm,” Carver hums. 

“As you wish.” After drawing the covers back, he carefully picks up June before settling himself in the middle of the bed and the twins against himself. They both let out contented sighs and it does not take long for their breathing to even out, and for soft snores to echo around the room. 

Fenris does not sleep, per se, but he definitely starts the next morning feeling more refreshed than usual, and the twins definitely seem more chipper than before as well. 

Time passes like that. For how long, Fenris isn’t entirely sure; the days start to run together after a while. Different visitors, different escapades from the twins.

He longs for Hawke every day, but each time Carver or June cracks a joke, flashes a wry smile, it is stronger. He wants her to see them growing up, growing into their own people, people she would be proud to call her children. Of course, they’re only just four, but Fenris will not deny their personalities, how each of them is definitively their own person. 

June resembles her mother when Sebastian, traveling to Kirkwall from Starkhaven once more, helps her steady her aim with a bow. 

Carver resembles his mother when his Aunt Bethany comes to visit and he marvels at her every word. 

Fenris sees himself in both of them when they become grumpy, lower lip sticking out in a pout as they try to convince him they know best. 

One day, as he sits with Bethany on the porch swing, watching Carver and June chase each other around the yard, he says, “I miss her.” It’s soft, almost so soft that he doesn’t hear himself say it.

“As do I,” Bethany says, keeping her eyes on the twins. The quiet summer breeze rustles the leaves of the trees, blowing Bethany’s hair across her face. She pushes the locks to the side before turning her eyes to Fenris. “She’ll be back, you know.”

It takes him a moment, but he finally meets her eyes. “I know.”

“But that doesn’t make her being gone any easier, does it?”

“It does not,” he replies drily, a wry smile with no joy in it on his lips.

“You’re not alone in missing her,” Bethany continues. “We all do. Even them,” she adds with a cursory nod to June and Carver.

“Do they even remember her at this point?” he asks, not able to mask the bitterness, the disgust in his voice. “She left when they were barely two, barely weaned. Two years is a long time, especially for ones of their age.”

Bethany leans her head on his shoulder. It is a small act, but one that Fenris surprisingly finds himself taking much comfort in. “They do, even if they don’t realize it,” she says. “When she returns, I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed to see her.”

“We can hope.” A simple answer, but one that he knows conveys his feelings well. It is still not in his nature to have blind optimism. 

“Well, I suppose it is time for me to be going,” Bethany says, straightening herself before standing. “Carver! June! Come say goodbye before I leave,” she calls.

June and Carver pause—June drops the dirt in her hands, almost guiltily—before scrambling over to their aunt, wrapping their arms around her legs and wailing about how they wish she would never leave. But, of course, eventually Bethany is able to detangle herself from them and, with a kiss to each of their brows, she takes her leave. 

The twins spend the rest of the day in moderately subdued silence. At the table, though, after they have finished their dinner and put the dishes away, June peers at Fenris over the top of the flowers—fresh, this time—and asks a question. “Papa? Can you tell us about Mama?”

“I—” he starts, but no other words form. He sees her in flashes, hears her voice, and it hurts. It _hurts_.

“Papa? Are you okay?” Carver asks. His little face is scrunched in concern, and it makes Fenris’ heart melt, bringing him back to reality.

“Yes. I am fine, Carver,” he says, reaching out a hand and cupping his son’s face for a comforting moment. Dropping his hand, he turns his attention back to June. “Sorry for worrying you there. What—what would you like to know about her?”

“What does she look like?”

Fenris smiles. “Like the two of you, actually,” he says.

“Really?” June asks, eyes shining.

“Yes, really.” He extends a hand to each of them, which they each take, before leading them to the couch and pulling them into his lap after he sits. “You both have certain… _features_ from me, such as your pointed ears and wide eyes, but you look like your mother. You have her hair and her freckles, her smile.”

“Does she smile a lot?”

“Often,” Fenris replies, a smile of his own forming. Hawke always ends her jobs with a self-satisfied grin, and she is almost always joking. 

“Is Aunt Bethany Mama’s sister? Are Aunt Bela and Aunt Merrill?”

“Just Aunt Bethany,” Fenris says, a light laugh in his voice. He supposes the twins wouldn’t understand that Isabela and Hawke—and Bethany, for that matter—looking nothing alike would make it difficult for them to be related. Let alone that Merrill is an elf. “Aunt Bela and Aunt Merrill are two of her closest friends, though.”

“Are they your friends, too?”

That question, however simple, gives Fenris pause. Are they? He’s never really considered the concept of friendship before. He supposes, sure, that Hawke is his friend first and he is lucky to have married his best friend, but he’s not sure if he’s ever thought about the rest of their rag-tag group as his friends. There are qualities about each of them, sure, that he admires; Isabela’s eternal confidence, Merrill’s surety of her actions, Sebastian’s devotion to his beliefs, but he’s not sure if those equate to friendship. “I suppose they are,” he eventually says. “Even if it is just by association with your mother.”

“I think they think you’re friends,” Carver says. He leans his head back against his father’s chest and stares up at him, green eyes more knowing than a child of four’s should be. 

“Oh?”

Carver nods. “Yeah.” He looks to his sister for support.

“I think so too, Papa,” June says before stifling a yawn.

Fenris glances out the window at the sun finally dipping below the horizon. “Tired?” he asks.

June shakes her head vigorously, but finds herself unable to stop another yawn. “Never.”

“Me neither,” Carver says, head lolling to the side and eyes dropping. 

“Shall we save a bath for the morning?”

“Mm,” they reply in unison. 

With that, Fenris shifts a twin to each hip, and carries them to his and Hawke’s room. Ever since that night they asked to sleep in his bed, the three have shared the room. Fenris places both of them on the bed, and they crawl under the covers, leaving space between them for him. He checks the various candles throughout the house, making sure none of them are left burning, checks the kitchen to ensure dinner was cleaned up, checks the door to make sure it is locked before returning. Even though he was not gone for long, the twins are already sound asleep when he returns. He presses a gentle to kiss to each of their foreheads, smoothing back their hair before settling himself into the space between them. 

He lays there for a while, a twin nestled into each side, and thinks. Thinks about how the twins wanted to know about their mother, their mother’s friends. How they’re growing into their own. How he misses their mother. 

After a bit, Carver rolls over, accidentally bonking his head against Fenris’ elbow. Fenris quickly quells his son’s tears, wiping them from his eyes and placing a kiss against the injured area. “Sorry for that, dear,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, Papa,” Carver says, hand rubbing at an eye. “Did I wake you up?”

Fenris shakes his head. “No.”

Despite his sleepy state, Carver frowns. “Papa, were you not asleep?”

“I…no, no I wasn’t.” Fenris decides not to lie to his son, if only because he is sure the child will not remember this conversation in the morning.

“Then I’m not sleeping either,” Carver announces quietly, careful not to wake June. “I won’t sleep until you do, too.”

“That’s not necessary,” Fenris whispers. “I will be fine.”

“No,” Carver protests, shaking his head. “No sleep.”

“You need sleep more than I,” Fenris counters. “You’re still growing.”

But still, Carver persists. “No.”

“You are not to be deterred, are you?” Fenris asks. This determination is something that Fenris hasn’t seen from his son much, but he finds himself unable to be surprised. The boy does have two rather stubborn parents. 

“No,” Carver repeats.

“Then I will try,” Fenris relents. And he means it. If it makes Carver happy, he will try his best to sleep.

“Good,” Carver mumbles, voice already thick with sleep again.

“Indeed,” Fenris replies, placing another kiss to his son’s head.

The next morning, Fenris opens his eyes. Rubbing at one of them with the heel of his palm, he takes in the light in the room. Sunlight, not that of a candle or lantern.

He is slow to realize, but the shock hits him—he slept last night. _Through_ the night, for the first time in…he’s not even sure how long. 

Soon after, he also realizes that June is sprawled out horizontally across his chest, her hand reaching out and holding Carver’s. As sweet as this moment is, he knows that he cannot rise without rousing them. So, he waits a little longer, letting the twins sleep as long as they need. 

It is not too long, thankfully, before June blinks blearily before smiling up at Fenris. “Mornin’, Papa,” she says softly, voice thick with sleep. Haphazardly, she shakes her arm, the hand of which is still holding Carver’s, in an attempt to wake him. “Carver,” she says, voice clearer than before, “it’s time to get up.”

Carver, face down in the pillow, grumbles. 

Fenris chuckles, a soft sound but one full of joy. “Your sister is right,” he says. “We need to begin the day.”

Much more rumbling and grumbling ensues, but, eventually, Fenris and the twins rise and make their way to the kitchen. Fenris is digging through the cabinet for plates when he hears it.

A knock at the door.

He frowns, knowing that they are not expecting company. Still, he makes his way to the door and opens it.

And—

She’s standing there, blonde hair a little longer than he last saw her, a few more worry lines than he last knew, more tired than before.

But she is here.

_Hawke_.

She is here and she is _real_.

“Who’s there, Papa?” he hears June ask, but she sounds miles and miles away.

“I— _Hawke_ ,” he whispers, voice hoarse and full of more emotions than he ever knew he was capable of.

“Hey, Fenris,” she says, a small grin growing on her face. Her eyes are so, so tired, but at the same time he sees so much joy, so much love in them.

“Hawke,” he says again, before throwing his arms around her and hugging her tight and with the intent to never let her go again.

“Hello, love,” she whispers into the crook of his neck.

It is then that Fenris feels himself begin to shake. He pulls away a little, allows himself to meet her eyes again, finding that both his and hers are filled with tears. “I…it is good to see you,” he says. 

“I missed you, too,” she says, before standing on her tippy toes and bringing her lips to his. There is so much comfort, so much _love_ , in such a simple action.

He did not realize just how deep his longing for her was.

The moment is broken when he feels a small hand grab and tug on the end of his tunic. “Papa?” It is June again, except now she is here, not far away like before. “Papa, who is this?”

Fenris, however reluctantly, releases his hold of Hawke and steps back, allowing June—and Carver, who has moved to his sister’s side—to really get a look at just who has knocked at their door. “Who do you think it is?” he counters.

June squints, obviously thinking through an answer. She takes a long, hard look at Hawke before doing the same to her brother. Then, her expression softens to one of wonder. “Mama?” she asks tentatively. 

Hawke squats down, making eye contact with her daughter before extending a hand to her. “Yes, baby, it’s me. Mama’s home.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope y'all liked this! it's my first fenhawke fic, and i have to say that i'm pretty pleased with it! title comes from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-aOy9P_OAeM). had another one of those "oh this song sounds like it would work with this idea" ideas, so here we are :)
> 
> as always, please please please please p l e a s e leave a comment or kudos if you liked it!


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